


can you feel where the wind is

by orphan_account



Series: of quick kisses and deeper thoughts [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, if i cld explain this i would, jons hopeless and robbs a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And Robb is better than Jon in every way except he drinks shit beer and smokes terrible pot and kisses Jon when he’s drunk and sits in hot tubs in the middle of fucking November.





	can you feel where the wind is

**Author's Note:**

> anyway ive never proof read anything in my life :)

“Come over,” Robb says the second Jon picks up the phone. His voice is low and breathy, combined with the muffled sound of water bubbling which Jon can only guess is coming from Robb’s ridiculous hot tub.

“You're high,” he laments and considers hanging up right then and there. It's too late to be awake, especially for Robb, who Jon painstakingly recalls has a big presentation with the board of directors of his father’s company tomorrow morning. He’s surprised he remembers that, considering every time they meet it’s against a wall and their mouths are too busy to talk.

“I might be,” Robb slurs and then laughs, a raspy noise that makes Jon’s stomach flip. 

“You ass, I can't believe you’re drunk, too,” Jon grumbles.

“Jon,” Robb pauses, “come over.”

“Your mother will have my head if she finds out I had anything to do with your hangover tomorrow,” he argues, running a hand through his hair.

There's a moment of silence on the line. 

“Come over,” he repeats and hangs up.

Jon sighs heavily, tossing his blanket aside. It's not like he's doing anything particularly important but it seems like a bad idea to go to Robb’s apartment. Still, he shuffles out of his bed and tosses on a jacket, not bothering to change out of his sweatpants.

Robb, Jon realizes, should really be more careful. The door to his apartment is unlocked and Jon rolls his eyes, stepping in.

“You really should lock your door,” he calls as he toes his shoes off and scans the apartment for Robb.

“I should but I got you here to make sure I'm alright, yeah?” Robb yells back and Jon follows his voice to the balcony.

He shivers immediately, tugging his jacket tighter and zipping it up.

“Robb, it’s fucking November,” Jon eyes the hot tub and then Robb, who is sitting in it wearing nothing but swim shorts.

“Can't really tell in the tub,” he shrugs, taking a slow drag of his blunt.

“Get in,” he says after a moment.

Jon shakes his head immediately, “I'm not insane,” he snorts.

Robb makes a face, frowning as he reaches for his beer bottle which sits at the edge of the tub, slim fingers wrapping around the neck as he takes a swig. Jon wrinkles his nose, reaching forward to snatch the bottle and then the blunt.

“Enough of that,” he snaps when Robb begins to protest, “your presentation is tomorrow, Robb.”

Robb watches him for a moment, pink lips pursed and then stands slowly. Unruly strands of dark hair glint in the moonlight as he reaches blindly for Jon to help him out of the hot tub.

“At least let me finish smoking that,” he sighs, plucking the blunt from Jon’s hands. 

He turns away, leaning against the balcony and taking a drag from the blunt. Jon follows, noticing the goosebumps already visible on Robb’s pale arms.

“You have terrible habits,” Jon mutters, stealing the blunt from between Robb’s fingers.

Robb chuckles as Jon takes a long drag, beckoning for Jon to pass it back. They pass it back and forth for a bit in silence; nothing but the sound of the wind and cars below them.

Jon glances over to Robb who looks undisturbed by the cold, goosebumps rise on his bare skin and yet he seems unaffected. Jon shakes his head; most likely the effect of all the fucking weed he smokes.

He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over Robb’s shoulders before taking a gulp of the half finished beer. It's fucking useless; the jacket hardly shelters Robb from the wet cold that seems to have permeated the air. But Robb tilts his head back and smiles appreciatively before turning his head back to the vast skyline visible from his balcony.

Robb hums the tune to a song Jon doesn't bother to remember, one hand out stretched to Jon, “dance with me.”

“There’s no music.”

Robb stares for a moment, eyes glassy before reaching for his phone. It takes him a second but his fingers clumsily search for a song and the soothing sound of Elvis singing flows with the wind.

Jon looks away, more annoyed now with Robb and his unpredictable mood changes but takes his hand anyway, stabilizing Robb by sliding his hand over the damp skin on Robb’s waist. He's warm and real and firm; Jon shudders.

“You should zip that up,” Jon breathes, and then pulls himself away from Robb to do just that.

It’s almost unfair how good Robb looks at the moment, hair falling into his striking blue eyes, Jon’s jacket wrapped around him, wearing nothing but swim shorts.

“If you’re worried about tomorrow,” Robb sniffs, “don’t be.”

“I can’t help it,” Jon replies, leaning forward, “you’re such a dumbass sometimes.”

Robb snorts slightly, “you’re no better. It’s 1 am and you’re dancing with me.”

Jon’s nose nudges against Robb’s cheekbone and he brushes a kiss on his temple. He’s right; Robb may be the one with dumb choices but Jon’s the one with him through every single one.

Robb tilts his head, capturing Jon’s mouth in a lazy kiss, one hand cupping Jon’s jaw and the other sliding over the nape of his neck. In the silence, Elvis bleeds through Robb’s phone.

Robb is wonderful. He is reckless and annoying and manages to get high and drunk and piss Jon off all at the same time. He pushes Jon’s buttons somewhat intentionally and yet Jon could never say no to him.

Would never.

“Come to bed?” Robb mumbles against Jon’s mouth.

He nods, slow.

Jon stands for a moment, watching Robb turn off the tub and then watches as he shuffles into his room, stripping himself of Jon’s jacket and his swim shorts.

Jon stares at the dip in the small of Robb’s back and at the dimples that sit above the curve of his ass as he slides on a pair of worn out sweatpants.

“You coming?” Robb calls, snapping Jon out of his trance. He hurries into the warmth of Robb’s apartment and out of the chill on the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey,” Robb smiles lopsidedly, glimmering and at ease. He leans forward, arms wrapping around Jon’s neck as he pulls in for a kiss.

Robb tastes like shit beer and smoke and Jon sighs, one hand sliding over the curve of Robb’s jaw, fingertips pressing into his cheekbone.

Jon nudges his nose against Robb’s cheek, one hand pushing between them to reach in the band of Robb’s sweatpants. Robb stifles a groan, leaning forward, grinding lazily against Jon’s hand. He tugs on Robb’s dick, fingertip skimming over the head, using the precum to make the slick slide of his hand easier. He’s hot and heavy in Jon’s hand and Jon leans forward, mouthing gently at the curve of Robb’s neck. Robb whimpers softly, stoned and drunk and sensitive and comes, bucking uselessly against Jon.

Jon kisses Robb’s neck, soothing over the teeth marks he’s left there as he works Robb through his orgasm. When Robb sucks in a sharp breath and pushes away, Jon pulls his hand out, sticky and warm and wipes it against Robb’s sweatpants.

“Now I’ve gotta get changed again, ass,” Robb complains and Jon shrugs, smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

“I got you off, mate, you’re welcome,” he offers in reply and Robb rolls his eyes, pulling off his ruined sweatpants and tossing them in the general direction of his laundry bin. He settles into Robb’s bed as Robb tugs on boxers before collapsing in the bed beside Jon.

It’s different with Robb, the way he smiles, something clever yet gentle and the way his laugh, a raspy noise, makes Jon’s heart hurt in the best possible way. One would think he’s in love with the way Robb is, the way he looks when he is focused, deft fingers quick and brow furrowed. The way he moves, effortless and humble and the way he speaks, dry and witty with his co workers yet playful and secretive with Jon. The way he’s posh and professional with everyone except Jon. As if he loves Jon the same way Jon loves him.

And Robb is better than Jon in every way except he drinks shit beer and smokes terrible pot and kisses Jon when he’s drunk and sits in hot tubs in the middle of fucking November.

But Robb is Robb, a product of his welcoming father and his sharp mother and Jon wonders how it’s possible, to retain each of their best qualities and not their shortcomings. He’s a better man than Jon is yet here Robb is, arm slung loosely across Jon’s waist, head nestled against his chest. He is a better man and yet, he chose Jon.

And all Jon can do is push away the stray auburn curls falling in Robb’s eyes and press a kiss to his forehead. As if that could describe the intangible amount of love Jon feels towards him. For now, all he wants is to stay like this and for the morning to never come.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos r always appreciated xx


End file.
